


Others

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: College Setting, F/M, Fanfiction of fanfiction maybe, Female Reader, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader is asexual, Reader is named, Reader-Insert, but has a libido, it's a whole thing, shy reader, so meta even this acronym, sorta - Freeform, tags added as needed, there will be smut in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7393078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you were fourteen, you were found wandering outside of Mt Ebott. It's been over six years later, and after surviving foster care, high school, and putting yourself through community college, you're starting your senior year at a pretty good university, where you've worked your butt off to get a good scholarship! You don't remember your past, but you're determined to make a good future.</p>
<p>And then the monsters appear and the dreams start. They can't be memories, because there are key details that disagree, but sometimes you swear two dreams might be related, like scenes from the same story. Sometimes they're nightmares and sometimes they're not and sometimes you wake up sweaty and flustered and trying not to think too hard about it. They're always about the same monsters, especially this one short little skeleton dude.</p>
<p>This would all be fine, until the figures from your dreams show up on campus and the dreams become harder to ignore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Others

**Author's Note:**

> After reading an excessive amount of sans/reader fics, I've come to the conclusion that I am human garbage and I guess I'm going to write fanfiction now.
> 
> This fic is definitely going to devolve into a smut fic, to be honest. There's also going to be a lot of meta stuff happening, largely because of the premise behind the reader character, so, uh, expect that.
> 
> I dunno, I have a tumblr that shares a name with my name here, so if you have questions or whatever, feel free to ask? I guess?
> 
> And I don't have a beta, so, uh, what you see is what you get.

You're sitting in a large, elegant looking living room. You can feel chilly air against your exposed arms and face—you're wearing some sort of sleeveless pj top and there's a blanket across your legs that you can just see out of the corner of your eye. You're leaning against something that's firm, almost a bit too much so, because something is lightly digging into your hip, but for some reason you can't make yourself really care.

There's a band of something about your shoulder, but your eyes don't leave the screen of the large TV in the entertainment center across the room. There's some kind of cartoon playing—an anime, your mind provides, Mew Mew Kissy Cutie, because...because someone wanted to watch it. Who wanted to...?

You try to look away but you can't seem to move. You can't move anything, in fact, not of your own free will, although you feel yourself shift against whatever you're lying against so that the hard bit isn't pressing into your hip anymore. 

You hear a loud sort of yelling behind you, and this time your body does what you want it to as you turn on the couch to face.... to face...

You wake up, gasping into the dark. The grinning skull is clear in your mind, even as the rest of your dream starts to fade in the transient ways that dreams do once you've left them behind. The air conditioner vent above your door is hissing and you shiver lightly in the cool room as you sit up in the tiny twin bed and your sweat soaked shirt is exposed to the chill.

"J-just a dream," You mutter to yourself, running a hand over your face and pushing back damp, messy stands of hair. You clench your other fist in the soft comforter tangled over your legs as you repeat, as if trying to convince yourself, "just a dream..."

It wasn't the first dream you'd had like this. Or...at least, the first dream you'd had about the /monsters/. You can never remember much about the actual dreams, and already you can't remember much more than the grinning skull, but you know they always feature monsters and you wake up with your heart racing and sweat dripping off your skin no matter how cold you set the air to before you sleep. 

You weren't sure if they were nightmares, exactly. Sometimes you woke up choking on fear, sometimes you woke up with damp cheeks and sore eyes and a sob in your chest, but sometimes you woke up like this, not so much afraid or upset as... as.... you weren't really sure how to describe it. But the bad times weren't that often, or that hadn't been so far. And sometimes, you woke up feeling warm and happy, or with what you'd swear was a laugh on your lips or...otherwise feeling...good. You flushed lightly at the thought, pushing it from your head.

This one wasn't scary, you think. Unnerving, maybe—made worse by the dark before dawn and the empty room.

You glance to the side, at the glowing red numbers on the desk across the room. Your dorm room is so tiny that you can reach over and slap it in the morning if you hang just off the edge of the bed, and even though your contacts are sticking to your eyes and blurring your vision, you can make out the numbers clearly. It's just after four in the morning, and you know from experience, particularly after this past summer, that you won't be falling asleep again anytime soon.

Still, the weariness in your bones and the aches in your muscles from moving all of your junk into the dorm that day make you groan and flop back down, pressing an arm over your face. You suppose you could get up and finish setting your room up—it's mostly clothes and maybe putting up a few posters, so it's not like you're likely to wake anyone up, right? And classes don't start for another day or two, since it's still move in weekend, so...not like your lack of sleep will hurt you /too/ much.

With a noise escaping your throat that was totally not a whimper, thank you very much, you kick the blankets off and throw yourself out of the bed—barely catching yourself on the desk as you remember mid hop that you left the bed at one of the higher settings, so you could fit some of your boxes under it. The rest of your morning is spent unpacking and grumbling under your breath about how small the dorm room is after you bang your knee on the dresser once or twice.

***

Dawn comes and goes while you finish up, and by the time you tuck the last stack of underwear into your top drawer and ball up the last trash bag you'd used to haul your clothes, the sun outside is shining brightly into your room and you can hear a few people stumbling around outside in the hallway. If the bangs and cursing is anything to go by, it's people still moving in—and making enough noise that you can hear your neighbor, a tiny asian girl you'd helped set up the bed, groaning as she's woken up. You snort as you take a few minutes to pull out a clean outfit and grab your shower things—you can smell yourself, and figure that's something you should take care of before you hit the dining hall for breakfast, as much as your growling stomach disagrees with you.

You're in a new dorm this time, and you're surprised to find that the bathroom set up is pretty different from your old dorm's. For one thing, the two separate bathroom doors you noticed the night before don't seem to lead to identical gender split bathrooms. Rather, you discover, one door leads to a room filled with toilet stalls and sinks, and the other leads to surprisingly roomy shower stalls. The stalls are split in half with a curtain—you guess so you can hang your things up on the other side of it, and get dressed without having to walk around in a towel. The stalls themselves are pretty tall—taller than you are, actually, although that's not saying much and you're sure there are a few people who could probably look over at each other in them, but you'd probably have to make an effort to actually look over one. It's....different, but you suppose it could be worse? You've always been a little shy, but if you take the stall at the end, and just shower at off times, it should be okay. You think.

The shower room steams up fast, and your apple scented soaps replace the smell of cleaning products. You take a fast shower, already day dreaming about the surprisingly good french toast at the cafeteria, and wrap up in a towel, promising yourself that you'll bring clean clothes with you from now on, now that you know it's an option without getting them soaked. You emerge from the steamy bathroom, flip flops squelching wetly and shower caddy in the hand that isn't holding your towel closed—and almost smack into a tall figure. You stumble back, an apology slipping out of your lips—and your eyes finally register what you're looking at. The spine is the giveaway, of course, because people have flesh there, a waist, and below the broad chest—the armor, you register absentmindedly--, there is only a long spine and the back of an orange scarf that trails beside it. The figure is turning its head, it's /skull/ to look over its shoulder, and you can see the boxes it's carrying through the area where there should be flesh but instead is only clear air and...and... you feel a bit faint as you look into the skull from your dream that morning, eye sockets dark and teeth on display as its mouth opens and you hear a booming voice behind you as you /bolt/ back to your room, holding your towel tightly and nearly stumbling in your flip flops before you slam the door behind you.

You sit on your bed, barely noticing the damp spot that forms on the sheet under you from your towel and the drops of water sliding down your back from your hair. Your heart is thumping in your chest so hard that part of you is waiting for the pain down your arm that you're pretty sure is supposed to mean a heart attack (only you'd read, once, that the symptoms for women are different, and there's a numb, clinical part of your mind that gets distracted wondering what the differences are. You should really look it up, shouldn't you? It's probably important to know.)

You sit there for a long while, until your breathing evens out, and the thumping outside your door of people moving in slows down. When you do emerge, it's only after you've convinced yourself that you must have just seen a picture of the skeleton monster (you're assuming it was a monster. It has to be a monster right?) on tv or the internet or something. You'd tried to ignore most news about them since the whole barrier thing had happened, but people around you hadn't, so it wasn't unlikely. And you knew that monsters had gotten a lot of publicity and all. You'd just seen a picture, and those were the faces you'd been dreaming about and there wasn't anything weird about that, just your mind plugging faces you'd seen into whatever weird dream stuff. And you were dreaming about monsters in the first place because...because. Because shut up, that's why, it had nothing to do with your insecurities and fears about the fact that you'd been found near Mt Ebott, because you didn't /have/ insecurities and fears and...and you were 100% human after all, the doctors would have noticed with all those tests...

There's a small part of you, now that you've calmed down, that feels a little guilty about your response. You're pretty sure it had tried to say something to you. ...he had? She had? Did skeletons have gender? You chastise yourself, mentally. The monster wasn't human, but it wasn't an it. /They/ had, then, until you knew better.

You rub your face like you're trying to rub away the thoughts as you lock your dorm room and slip your keys into your jean pockets. You're late enough to breakfast that they're starting to put out some of the lunch stuff, and the bacon is cold and greasy and the french toast a little stale, so you sigh and do an early lunch instead, and eventually grab a takeout container to fill for dinner, because you're really not feeling up to dealing with people again. 

Most of that day is wasted munching on cold french fries and reading on your laptop. You swear you hear that booming voice again once or twice, and you force yourself to ignore it and get over it, putting your headphones in at one point when you feel yourself shiver. It's fine. You're fine. In fact, most of the rest of your free time is spent pretty similarly, leaving the dorm only when it's quiet to grab food or your books, and otherwise just hanging out over the next few days. A few friends text you, and you make plans to start up study groups and get the normal alerts in your inbox for upcoming meetings, but everyone is too busy moving back in and rushing to finish pre-semester work to make plans to do much more than meet up in the cafe for a meal or two.

You wake up once or twice from strange dreams, of course, but you're sort of used to it at this point. One night you wake up gasping and holding your chest protectively, knowing it won't help but... you don't remember what you were dreaming that you were protecting it from. Something about the color red. 

Another night, you wake yourself up with a low groan and sticky thighs and blush madly to yourself for most of the morning, occasionally squirming until you finally give up and, well. Take care of the problem. On the bright side, you're a lot more relaxed that day.

It's the Sunday before classes start, a little less than three days since you finished moving in, when your phone goes off with the familiar breaking glass noise you know means you're probably being called into work early. You set your laptop to the side, sitting up in your nest of pillows, and grab it from the windowsill. It's a text, not a call, thankfully. Phone calls make you kind of anxious, which you know is really silly, but knowing it's dumb doesn't really help fix it.

>Mel's sick. I know you werent supposed to start until next week, but any chance you can fill in tonight?

You frown at the phone screen. You have an early class tomorrow, but...admittedly, you could really use the money. You bite your lip, considering, before shrugging and sending a quick response.

>Can I get out by midnight? Morning classes on Mondays.

The response takes less than a minute.

>Better than nothing. See you at seven. Thanks!

Checking the clock, you realize you have about an hour to get ready and walk downtown.

***  
The thing about your job is that you're kind of good at it. You'd started your second semester, just after you'd turned 21, and years of working as a barista in high school and community college had really helped you adapt. You knew what you were doing, you knew the drinks, your boss trusted his staff enough that you knew you weren't going to get in trouble for little mistakes (and you knew how not to make most of them!), and overall, you felt different when you were on the clock. There wasn't enough time to be nervous or anxious, and with the bouncers ready to kick people out if they caused a problem, there was a certain level of power you had that made interacting with customers easier than interacting with people elsewhere.

It had been a few months, since you didn't live nearby during the summer, but you felt yourself easing back into the rigors of the job pretty easily. It was busy, of course—the day before classes started generally was—and there were the usual few arguments at the door with stupid freshmen who didn't know how to get a quality fake ID, but overall your night probably wouldn't have even been notable...if it hadn't been for the monsters.

They show up a little bit before the end of your shift, and you can tell when they enter the bar, because there's a silence that's unusual for a bar near midnight. You're behind the counter, cracking open two bottles from the fridge, and you look up after you set them down in front of the couple on the counter.

There are four of them, and it feels like every eye in the bar has turned their way as they walk up to your counter. There's a female, you think, monster, that reminds you vaguely of a fish? Scales and gills and all, with red hair and an eyepatch and...her teeth are a little bit terrifying, maybe. Her eye is narrowed as her gaze sweeps the suddenly quiet bar, one hand fisted at her side. The other is occupied, holding the hand of a much shorter monster that sort of reminds you of a dragon or a dinosaur, maybe? Or a lizard? She's a pale yellow color and wearing a brightly colored sun dress. She's also flushed and looking down at the ground. 

Your breath hitches a little, because these are faces you've seen. Not as common as some others, but you've woken up remembering them. You shake your head to clear it, flushing a little. You saw them on a TV program in passing or something, that's all.

The other two are equally familiar—especially the tallest one, who you recognize as being the skeleton you almost crashed into this morning. Your cheeks flush darker as you hope they don't recognize you. You'd been in a towel, with your hair down and all, so...there's a good chance, right? Their face is open and excited as they look around the bar, their skull whirling on their...neck? spine?

"THIS WAS A FANTASTIC IDEA!" They call out, slapping a fist into their other hand. Or bones into bones. You're really not sure how to think of the whole not having flesh thing. "LOOK AT ALL THESE BRIGHT COLORS! SO MANY PEOPLE! THIS IS THE BEST PLACE TO MAKE NEW FRIENDS!"

They looks at you with those dark eye sockets and you realize you've been staring with everyone else and you gasp, stepping forward. "R-right! Sorry, I was surprised! Welcome! What can I get for you?" You stutter out sheepishly, your confidence slowly making a reappearance. "We have a back to—"

You're cut off by the fourth member of the group stepping out from behind the taller skeleton. He's shorter than the rest, in a slightly stained blue jacket sort of thing with fur around the edges. Light glows in his eye sockets, which are, alarmingly, narrowed at you. Oddly enough, it isn't his glare that stops you. Rather, it's the fact that of all of the things you've dreamed over the past few months, this is the face that you've woken up thinking about the most. And, well, in generally much more private dreams. You look at him and for a moment, you can see him in your mind's eye, smirking down at you with something casting a bright blue glow up onto his face and your back is against soft sheets and—  
You flush darkly and clear your throat. "Back to school special tonight! All, ah, all vodka drinks are half off!"

His glare—and it's clearly a glare, and you can't help but think of him as a he—hasn't faded. 

"I WISH TO TRY HUMAN BEVERAGES!" The other skeleton announces, expression aglow with excitement. 

"they probably won't be as good as grillbys, bro." The smaller skeleton says, glancing up at the other skeleton. His brother, then. You make a mental note. The smaller one's expression softens. "you sure about this? it's not too late to just—"

"NO, SANS! THE HUMAN DOCUMENTARIES WERE CLEAR! HUMAN SCHOLARS PARTAKE OF HUMAN BEVERAGES! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL BE THE GREATEST SCHOLAR! HUMAN!" The taller skeleton, Papyrus, announces, pointing at you in a dramatic pose you think you've seen in a video game or something, honestly. You blink at him, gaping. "FOUR HUMAN ALCOHOLS, PLEASE!"

At his side, the fish girl snickers, leaning over to whisper something into the ear of the lizard girl, who blushes brightly. The smaller skeleton is still watching you with narrowed eyes. You lean down to grab the laminated drink menu and set it on the counter in front of them.

"There are a lot of choices. Would you like to pick one?" You ask.

His bravado fades for a moment as he peers at the menu, considering. A few seconds pass.

"GIVE US YOUR BEST RECOMMENDATION!" He finally decides with a nod. You hesitate for a moment before shrugging and setting off to see what you can put together. You go simple—one of your best selling beers, a vodka and cranberry, one of your popular sweet cocktail drinks, and a shot of one of the popular liquors. You bring them over carefully.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like, so...I figured I'd get you some of everything," You say. You aren't sure what you're expecting, but the monsters seem willing to split them up and try them, at least. The one in the blue jacket is still sort of glaring at you as he looks down at the glass bottle in his hands and you can't help but wonder what you did to piss him off so badly. They all glance at each other before taking sips at the same time--and you barely hold back a snort at the expressions you get in return. You hadn't known that skeleton monsters could move their faces like that, it's actually kind of fascinating. 

"...THIS WAS NOT A GOOD DECISION." Papyrus announces, staring down into a glass still half full of an amber liquid. The lizard girl seems takes another sip of her bright pink drink.

"I-it's not that bad," She says.

The bar, in the meantime, seems to have gotten over its collective shock at the presence of the monsters, and you're drawn away from them by other customers eager to buy drinks. You fall back into the familiar groove of work, and don't notice when the monsters go to take a seat elsewhere. The bar is still pretty busy when midnight rolls around, much to your chagrin, and your boss emerges from the backroom, pulling an apron on.

"Sorry about this," You say as you start to clock out. "But it's a physics class, and I don't think I'm going to understand much when I'm not falling asleep in class." 

Your boss, a burly man in his late thirties named Luke, waves you off. "It's fine. Thanks for helping out..." He pauses, trailing off. "What are you going by, this month?"

"I'm on R, so Rose. I'm thinking I might go with Sylvia, next month. Or Stacy." You say. You brush your hand through your hair, ruffling it where the sweat was sticking it to your skin. 

Luke nods, chuckling. "Rose, then. Have a good night, Rose. Feel free to guilt Melissa into taking one of your shifts next time you've got a project due!" 

He takes over your station, and you stop in the back room to grab your phone from the employee bin--Luke had implemented a ban on phones on the floor after too many complaints from customers being ignored while the bartenders texted. Outside, it's muggy as hell and you grimace, already excited to get back to your dorm and its air conditioning. The bar isn't far from campus, but it's a good 20 minute walk to your dorm on the other side. You slip your headphones in, flipping to a good playlist on your phone, and start to walk.

Later, you'll curse yourself for the headphones. Your music is loud and upbeat, and it perfectly masks the calls of the drunk men that start following you, until you start to step down off the curb and feel tight fingers wrap themselves around your arm, wrenching you around. You stumble at the sudden change in momentum, and it's only the tight grasp on your arm that keeps you from hitting the ground as you feel your ankle roll as you slip off the curb. You hiss from the pain, cringing away from the hand on your arm, and wince again as hands yank your earbuds roughly from your ears.

"See, fellas, she ain't being rude," the tall man holding you slurs a bit, "she just couldn't hhheeaarrr us."

Your earbugs, dangling around your neck, still audibly blare bubbly music as you take in the situation you've inadvertently stumbled into. There are three men--one of them wearing greek letters you don't recognize by sight on a hoodie. The other two are in normal jeans and shirts, nothing unusual. They all reek of alcohol, though you don't recognize them from your bar. It's a college town, though, so it's not like they were lacking for options. You wouldn't have served them to get to the point they seem to be at though, and you mentally curse whoever did. 

"Pretty girl all alone at night--we just wanted to make sure you was okaaayyy," The one holding your wrist says, winking one bright blue eye at you. 

You flush, cringing back a little, but his grip doesn't loosen. If anything, it tightens when you try to pull away. "N-no, I'm okay. Um. Thank you," You mutter, still lightly tugging. He frowns at your wrist. 

"Why you trying to pull away? You're gonna make us think you don't /like/ us," He says, leaning into your personal space. His breath is hot and a bit rancid and you wrinkle your nose a little.

"I'm sorry. I just have class in the morning," You laugh nervously. "I really need to be getting back to the dorm."

"Surely you can hang out for just a little longer," One of the other men says, running a hand through his dark hair. "Or we can walk you to your place, make sure you get there safe."

"I really can't," You say. "Please let go of me."

Your breathing is getting heavier. There's a curl of panic twisting in your chest. Under you, your ankle aches fiercely as you try to keep your weight off it. The dark haired man seems to notice the way you lift it slightly.

"And look! You're injured. We couldn't let such a cute girl limp home by herself, right?" He says.

"Riiight!" The man holding you chimes in. "We'll just take you home, keep you safe. You can thank us after."

You aren't sure how you would have responded to this, because as you attempt to figure out how to excuse yourself without upsetting the man holding your arm, there's a voice that pipes up from across the street, "Hey, Jerk! She said no! Leave her alone!" It's a familiar voice, and you twist your head to see the monster girl, with the gills, glaring in your direction with her arms crossed. Her lizard companion watches, apparently concerned.

The men holding you stare for a few moments back in her direction. There's a moment where you /swear/ they're going to make an issue of it, but apparently the presence of others, even monster others, is enough. The hand holding your wrist pushes you away, letting go, and you stumble back and land on your butt on the sidewalk. 

"Che. Whatever, freak. See if we try to be nice again," He grumbles, turning away with his two friends. You wait until they've walked away before you hesitantly start to stand, letting out a hiss of air as your ankle complaints, loudly, at the pressure.

"You okay?" The monster girl is standing over you, frowning. 

"I, um, I guess. Thank you for your help." You stumble over your words a bit, looking down at the ground. 

"...you don't look okay," She says, still frowning as you take a few limping steps.

"I just twisted my ankle. It's okay," You say sheepishly.

"It's going to get worse if you walk on it," She says, snorting. "Don't pretend you're okay if you're hurt, dork. Alphys!"

At the name, the lizard woman crosses the street to join you.

"O-oh, is she okay? Should w-we call someone?" She asks, looking at the other monster.

"Hurt her leg. Fucking creeps." The fish woman reaches out to grab your chin, lifting your head so that you're looking at her instead of the ground. "Hey, I'm up here. Where do you live? I'll take you back."

She pauses, grimacing. "No 'thanks' necessary. You just shouldn't be walking on that, you know? I'm Undyne, by the way. This is my wife, Alphys."

You hesitate. "I'm Rose. It's, um, nice to meet you." You rub your arm, careful to actually look at her. There's something about that name, Alphys, that strikes you as familiar. Or...more familiar, you guess, because both of the names trigger something sort of in your chest, something that says 'this is right', like remembering something that's been /just/ on the tip of your tongue for ages. Alphys, though, feels like something you've read recently. Probably something else online, maybe, about monsters? A social media post or something.

It takes a few more minutes of hesitant questions before you finally agree to Undyne's help getting home. You're expecting her to take you to a car or something to just drive you the rest of the way. What you aren't expecting is for her to lunge forward and swoop you up like a princess. Your arms are wrapped around her neck reflectively and you squeak, clinging as your feet leave the ground. "N-no! It's okay! I'm heavy, it's alright, really, I can walk!" You stutter out, only for her to laugh.

"Nah, it's cool. Tell us where we're taking you." 

Undyne, you learn quickly, doesn't take no for an answer. But she seems harmless, compared to the men she took you away from, so you suppose it could be worse. Was almost worse. And she's not wrong about walking on the sprain--you've got an ace wrap in your things, at least for tomorrow, but it would have hurt like hell to make it back, especially up the stairs to your dorm room. You chat as she carries you the last ten minutes of your walk, and you learn a bit about the two monsters. They're anime fans, you learn, and there is a few moments where they gush over something they've started recently and you promise you'll give this Loveless thing a chance. Undyne works at the gym in town now, just started a week ago, and Alphys is a new faculty member in the engineering department. Alphys asks for the name of the drink you made her, but you learn that she was the only one who enjoyed her drink, and also that monster drinks tend to be a lot...well, better is pretty much how they're described. You don't take offense.

Undyne pauses outside your dorm and squints down at you. "You live here?" She makes a noise in the back of her throat. "Hey, what room?"

"Third floor, room 7," You reply. "Your, uh, friends from the bar...I think I saw one of them today moving stuff in?"

Undyne laughs. "Weird coincidence. Yeah, Sans and Papyrus are both up there. Decided to take classes to be close to us, I think. The monster community is pretty tight. One of our other friends is a guest lecturer this semester for a seminar on monsters even." She grins, bearing sharky teeth that you feel just a little nervous to be so close to.

Your door is locked, of course, and you chat as you find your keys, Undyne refusing to put you down. Down the hall, at the sound of her voice, one of the doors swings open and the short skeleton makes a reappearance, leaning against the door frame.

"missed us already? papyrus is already in bed." Sans asks, raising an eye...socket. You think it's the same as a human raising an eyebrow. It's weird how expressive skulls can be, and you marvel for a moment. He takes in your appearance and the eye socket just gets bigger. 

"Nah. Human girl was being harassed and hurt her leg. Couldn't just leave her," Undyne says cheerfully, walking into your room and dumping you on the bed. Sans appears in your doorway, letting out a noncommittal noise. His glaring has stopped, at least, although you're still not too clear what that was about.

Undyne and Alphys wish you a good night, and close your door for you. You lay in bed, thinking desperately about that shower you were going to take, but...the bathroom is just so /far/ and your leg hurts and it'll be fine if you just...sleep for now. You barely pull your blanket over you, leaving the light on, before you feel yourself drifting off.  
* * *  
You're in your bedroom, in a bed easily large enough for three. The blankets are bunched around your feet, and the air is cool and just slightly chilly on your bare skin. Your hands are fisted in the sheets under you and you let out a loud moan as something soft works itself between your legs, wet and slipping over your clit in a gentle rhythm. There are hard fingers that trail on your inner thighs and you look down to find the top of a white skeleton looking at you while his bright blue tongue swirls between your folds and one long bone finger sinks inside you and curls, rubbing just the right spot and you--

And you wake up, groaning a husky "Sans~" into your pillow. It takes a few moments before you realize where you are, and you pull your hands from your thighs, glad nobody is around to hear or see your shame. You remain in bed for another hour, until your alarm actually goes off, just thinking shameful thoughts and boiling in embarrassment, because are these are not the kind of dreams you want to be having about people you know. Especially not people who are monsters, skeletons, skeletons who kind of seem to actually hate you, but also just skeletons in general. Is there a special ring of hell for people who dream shit like this? 

You shakily climb out of bed and prepare to get ready for the day. You're lucky enough that the bathrooms seem to be empty this early, outside of a tall black girl who barely gives you a glance before taking the shower stall on the opposite side of the room from yours. It's fine, you tell yourself as you get under the hot water. It's a weird quirk and once the excitement and interest in monsters cools down, your dreams are totally going to stop. You'll just, you know, not go anywhere near the skeleton boy until your shame fades and you'll pretend it never happened. It's fine.

It's fine, you tell yourself as you step into your morning physics class after breakfast, late from having to go back to your room and pick up your forgotten textbook, and find a familiar looking skeleton in a blue jacket next to the only free seat. Absolutely /fine/.


End file.
